


Remember

by Suckers Dream Obscene (PoisonedDeath)



Category: Placebo
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 00:49:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1285057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoisonedDeath/pseuds/Suckers%20Dream%20Obscene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's falling down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really tired, so I apologise for my incoherent writing.

The doors open and close, close and open and a small shape watches aimlessly. People come by every day, but never for the man who is huddled on a couch, clad in multiple layers of black. His hair, ebony and in need of a fresh coat of paint, is greasy and limp. His oversized clothes swallow him, a black hole sucking him in. He waits for you everyday, dreaming of days long gone, those days where you held him and kissed away his pain. He doesn't understand why you aren't here. He feels so abandoned, so lost. There's no privacy in this decaying building, and so he'll openly roll up those sleeves and inject, and sketch out blood. He doesn't remember who he was before. But he remembers you, remembers your face. He remembers that you loved him. His dull eyes have given up on spilling salt, he has given up on himself. You can see it. You can see the way he lives in a completely different universe, the way he's so far from reality that he can't get back. Not that he wants to come back, of course. Why would he? Here, he's alone. But in his head, you hold him, you protect him. He's so broken. He sees people coming towards him, yelling at him about death and abandonment and he's screaming, he's running towards the window, opening it. Eyes look elsewhere, but screams escape from lips around the room.

He's falling down.  
He's silent again.

The final thump is expected, but the clowns in the room wince anyway. No one will look. The newspapers will print this tomorrow. They'll talk of how the fame went to his head, and to yours. Two albums for two deaths. They'll talk of how he jumped because he couldn't handle the grief, they'll spew bullshit about how he wanted to be with you. They'll talk about the window, the window you leapt from 3 years ago. No one will realise that he had no idea. Brian didn't even know you were gone, Stef. He couldn't remember.

But you don't know.  
And now, nor does he.


End file.
